


Renaissance

by ThunderScythe



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderScythe/pseuds/ThunderScythe





	Renaissance

He had snuck back into the city after his generous farewell, emotions pressing against his processor and making him unable to think of what to do besides what he was doing now. Wing had taught him so much and had done nothing but occupy his thoughts ever since crashing on the planet. It was first in anger but after a while he couldn't even describe what he felt.

He pressed his back against the wall and peered around the corner slowly, smirking when the door leading to where he wanted to go to was unguarded. Ah, the glories of having a neutral ran city; they thought everything was so perfect. He checked the area first anyway before slipping through the doorway, drowning into the shadows.

The door slide shut behind him and the only light was the dim glow of his optics. They changed shade as he flipped over to night vision and the room was lit up for him in blue. His spark pulsed briefly at the sight that befell his optics and his hands twitched slightly into a fist but before he could let his emotions overcome him he felt a wave of calmness flow over him and his whole body relaxed.

Soft steps lead him over to the berth and he stopped as he stared down at the face of his …mentor, he guessed. He really never knew that he was, thinking most the time of him as an annoyance but now? Now…he felt as if a piece of him would leave if he left him here.

His optics fell down and stared at the mech's chest- repaired and restored as it was before the battle- the battle that himself had caused. He had felt so guilty that it stung so deep in his core but Dai Atlas had taken a good measure to reassure him that he had saved them. _He_ had _saved_ a city. It felt so weird to think of. So strange to imagine but the sword pressing against his back told otherwise.

He turned his back to the mech, suddenly overcome with everything that had happened and everything that will happen in the future. He knew the Decepticons would track him down to this planet and seeing the newly open to the public New Crystal City they will not hesitate to take it as their own. He had not know what happened to Lockdown or where he went but he knew it would only be a matter of time before this small rock would be just like Cybertron.

His spark pulsed again and he felt all his actions useless. It seemed that he only lead and acted with affliction- even when he tried to do good it backfired and caused death. The sword lining his back pulsed back to his spark and he gasped, head snapping up and optics brightening. The orb shone and cast the dark room into a soft glow and he couldn't help but straighten up and look about, startled and confused beyond his own comprehension. Although he had not had it long he didn't think it would act on its own or even to his own spark's will.

"Wing…" he whispers to himself. "If only you could help me with what to do now."

A hand grabs him suddenly and he cry out in shock- what in the name of the Allspark? The hand wraps tightly around the sword on his back and yanks, pulling him with it back onto the body laid out behind him. Splayed out and gobsmacked, he stared with stretched out optics at the mech smiling down at him.

"Ah…Drift." Wing coos. "How good of you to visit me. I was getting lonely. Oh look! You brought my Sword. Thank you."

"W-Wing! But how-?" He had saw. He had _saw_!

"Oh don't look so disappointed." the older mech waves a hand about nonchalantly. "We are knights. We do not perish so easily."

Drift could not even begin to comprehend the illogicalness of that statement but with him sprawled in a thought dead mech's lap he could not argue. Wing smirked and loosened his hold on his beloved sword, running his fingers up the blade and over the orb with cherish.

"The most wonderful thing about having these…a little piece of yourself is stuck with it." Wing hums and Drift finally pieces two and two. It seemed a little far fetched and certainly bogus but who was he anyway? An ex-Decepticon and certainly not a medic.

"Unfortunately," Wing sighs, continuing. "My spark feels a bit…hollow. Empty. That small sample is barely enough to keep me supported." His mouth slips open slightly and he purrs deep in his vocalizer before his glossa poked out to moisten his dry lips. "I need… sustenance."

Drift begins to struggle when his helm is cupped and the glow of Wing's optics becomes a bit too light. "Get a hold of yourself!" He tries to reason. "Y-you certainly cannot kill a mech you worked so hard to c-change!"

"Kill?" Wing's voice heightens into confusion before chuckling deeply. "Oh silly pupil. I do not need to kill. I simply need to _refresh._ "

Drift's open mouth shock leaves the mech speechless and that gives Wing the opportunity to focus on more important things. His optics slip down to the mech's chest plates and hums, pleased. A still cold hand pets the white armour and Drift shudders, hands shooting up to grip the other mech's shoulders, legs kicking out uselessly to try and support himself as his back began to ache at the awkward and very much uncomfortable positioning.

"Be still." Wing tuts. "I can't support your insistent wiggling." The grip on Drift's helm tightens slightly and the mech drops all movement like a limp doll. Wing hums again before moving his hand down to stroke the pulsing orb of his sword. "Luscious." He whispers, as if about the white mech or about his sword Drift is not sure but Wing seems too drawn into himself to care as he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

Drift's processors race as he thinks the situation over. This was utter madness! So bizarre! And yet…a shiver of excitement races up his spinal struts and he shivers with arousal at the looks he was receiving from his handler. His hands tighten around Wing's shoulders and he uses the mech to haul himself up to sit, Wing hissing in pain and moving his legs out of the way, glaring at him like a parental unit would their unruly youngling.

"I will need to reteach you some things apparently." Wing murmurs as he slowly repositions himself as Drift folds his legs beneath him smoothly.

"And I will be happy to relearn everything." Drift utters back as he wraps an arm around Wing and supports him, straightening him up so their chests could be more level. "Is this what you need?" He asks before scraping their chests together and Wing's optics darken as his mouth drops open.

"Arrogant child. You will kill me again." Wing growls and Drift stops his teasing with a startled frown and a brightening of his optics. Had he gone too far?

Wing lashes out with a steady hand and grabs the hilt of his Great Sword and _pulls._ Drift, overcome by the sudden strength, has to press his hands into the metal of the berth to support himself and he cries out in pain when the newly attached latches to hold in the sword buckle and snap beneath Wing's sudden power.

Wing ignores all this, raising his sword high as his optics and the sword's orb glow bright with ferocity. Drift shakes with the loss of that grand pressure and the gain of physical pain, head barely able to look up and peek at the glory of Wing.

"Ah…ahahaha." Wing laughs to himself as he inhales deeply. "Much better." He lowers his mighty weapon and deposits it back to its proper place against _his_ back before looking down to Drift. "My apologies. You were starting to get a little annoying."

Drift shudders and his optics narrow as his fingers curl in emotion. Wing chuckles, "Relax my pupil, I still have uses for you. Sit up." When Drift continues to stare Wing calmly pets the mech's helm like one would a cyber-kitten. "Now now, it is not the time to pout. We have much to accomplish before my ceremony."

Drift seemed to click back to reality at that. Wing would be shot off into space as a final farewell to his spirit and the mech of New Crystal City would need to come in early to clean up, prepare and say their last respects.

"Wing. You cannot leave. You cannot! I still am lost. I still need your guidance." Drift babbles and Wing could only chuckle and pet the mech again.

"I will give you everything you need if you give me everything _I_ need." he spoke and Drift looked down a small moment.

Would it really be worth it, a small part of processors blurt. Of course! Another part argues; He was a cretin of Megatron's creed before Wing's guidance. He was a foolhardy mech who had lost his way. Wing had shown him the true road to drive down. The _true_ path to lead. Bah, that sounds like an Autobot, the Decepticon in him snarls. No, his whole self disagrees, I am not an Autobots. Nor a Decepticon. But…if not one nor the other…than what? _Who?_

Drift looks up at Wing with such confusion and ruin. He was a ruined mech. He needed to be patched together and he would accept no other than Wing.

"Sit up mech." Wing says with such calmness, "Let's solve all troubles, shall we?"

As if not in control of his own body, Drift rises and crawls close to the pointed mech, the orb of the sword behind Wing's helm giving a halo of light that leads Drift like a beacon.

"Please," Drift begs, " _Please_ …"

"Shush, Drift." Wing speaks and places a soothing hand on the mech's chest and Drift feels as if all troubles have vanished. "Be quiet and just give in."

So he does and he is relieved when everything around him stills and all worry erases itself from his form. His processors quiet, his body slacks and his spark sings with life. Wing descends upon him like a god and accepts his offering of life; his spark swells with the energy of a thousand mechs and his body feels as if he could take on Primus himself. However despite all this power he only takes what he needs and gives the rest back and Drift falls against him as their sparks separate and their chests close, the mech too exhausted mentally and physically to argue or even support himself.

Wing curls his arms around the smaller mech and gently rests his helm atop the other's, waiting patiently for reawakening. Although he had no desire to let his chance at new life be known to the citizens of his beloved city, and certainly to a changed Dai Atlas, he feels as if he can continue on with this new mech. A mech he could teach of the ancient ways and bring forth the desired peace of Cybertron, and thus the universe. His full spark swells with the thought of joy and he dims his optics down for a small rest, his body overtaxed and underused.

"Soon," he whispers, "We shall leave this place and slowly guide the people of Cybertron back to the ways of their planet. We shall bring all Cybertronians together for the peace they all deserve. One by one we can leave our mark…"


End file.
